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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22848538">Overestimate</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/electronic_elevator/pseuds/electronic_elevator'>electronic_elevator</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Video Blogging RPF, markiplier - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Amy's great and takes good care of Mark, Embarrassment, F/M, Omorashi, Public Transportation, Public Wetting, Wetting, this time it's heavily implied that fans see, unnamed convention</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 17:28:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,688</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22848538</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/electronic_elevator/pseuds/electronic_elevator</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A convention kept Mark too busy to take a bathroom break for the majority of the day, also leaving him pretty exhausted. Prioritizing getting back to his hotel room as soon as possible over slipping away to pee, he ends up desperate and leaking on the bus.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mark Fischbach/Amy Nelson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Overestimate</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>confession to make: this is the first fic I ever wrote about Mark. borne primarily out of me thinking “Mark would 100% be loud and whiny when desperate b/c his job encourages him to emote significantly and wouldn’t it be unfortunate if everyone saw…!”</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mark was kicking himself — metaphorically, of course. Physically would’ve had disastrous consequences at the moment. It had been a long and exciting day at the con, with a nearly constant parade of fans excited to meet him and consistent water sipping to keep his voice in good shape. The last time Mark had been able to sneak away for a bathroom break had been ages ago, and the need to pee was the most urgent thing on his mind. In retrospect, he could’ve probably made a stop before boarding the bus back to the hotel, but after the long day he just wanted to be back in the calm of his hotel room to catch a few hours of shut-eye, and had decided he could wait. But it wouldn’t be comfortable — not with the little jolt that shot through him every time he took a step, not with the pressure from his waistband intensifying his need once he sat down. Mark was already regretting his decision. </p>
<p>He’d mentioned it to Amy on the way out, and she was giving him periodic concerned looks. To be fair, he was acting fairly distracting, pressing his thighs together and jiggling his legs. </p>
<p>“You okay?” </p>
<p>“I’ve… really gotta go,” Mark replied near a whisper. </p>
<p>Amy glanced at the next stop listed on the marquee. “Do you think you’re going to make it, Mark?” </p>
<p>Mark felt his face heat up as he considered the alternative for the first time. “Yes! I… have to,” he protested in a grumble, hands dancing on his thighs. </p>
<p>The attention from Amy was making things worse because it was making him focus on it. Making him think about how there were other people around; how bad of a job he was doing at hiding his desperation. </p>
<p>A wave of need rushed him, causing him to make a small whimpering sound and grab himself. He began to realize making it back might be impossible. </p>
<p>“We’re halfway back, Mark, just hold on. You can hold it for me, can’t you?” Amy murmured, scarcely audible. </p>
<p><i>Halfway?!</i> “I don’t know if I—“ Mark stammered, thoughts feeling too fast and frozen in place at the same time. The only thing he could really process was the overwhelming urgency in his bladder.</p>
<p>Amy dug around in one of their bags for a minute, producing a towel. “Here. Sit on this. In case anything happens.”</p>
<p>Mark’s blush intensified. “I don’t— I can hold it! I can wait!” he rebutted quickly, wincing when he realized he was speaking notably louder than her. But, if he accepted the towel, it would make his situation that much more obvious. As if holding himself and constantly wiggling didn’t make it plain to everyone who looked. </p>
<p>Mark wasn’t looking around the bus, but it was reasonably crowded. Furthermore, since it was the bus from the con, it wasn’t unlikely he might have fans here. The thought was chilling his heart. He didn’t want anyone to see him like this, let alone someone who looked up to him. Respected him. He swallowed hard to suppress a strangled groan. </p>
<p>There were constant twinges from his bladder. Every bump in the road seemed to shock straight through him. Amy put a hand on his back, rubbing it gently, but didn’t say anything more. </p>
<p>It felt like an eternity had passed. “How far from the hotel are we?” Mark asked, desperation in his voice. </p>
<p>Amy glanced back up to the ticker-tape, then poked at her phone for a second or two. “Twenty minutes.” </p>
<p>Mark blanched, horror plain on his face. </p>
<p>“Give me… you better give me that towel,” he said after a beat of silence. Amy gave him a pitying look. She hadn’t put it away, and somehow that made him feel worse, like she knew he wouldn’t make it this whole time. </p>
<p>“Here,” she said, scooting over to make a bit of room between them. “You lift up, and I’ll pass this under you.” </p>
<p>“Okay,” Mark said, bracing everything in his body — biting his lip at the slight increase in pressure it caused to do so — and lifting up. It felt like Amy was moving in slow motion but it was only a second later that she’d slipped the towel under him, to keep between his legs, and he too-vigorously dropped back down on it, having to bite back another godawful noise at the pain of jostling.</p>
<p>“Are you good?” Amy asked, concerned. </p>
<p>Mark was anything but good. “I just wanna go pee, I don’t wanna have to go anymore, Amy, I’ve gotta go so bad,” Mark whined, grinding down onto the towel, as quiet as he possibly could but unable to resist the opportunity to let out an iota of his suffering. To some extent, the towel helped, providing pressure from an angle his hands weren’t reaching, but made wetting himself here feel like something inevitable. And oh, by god, he had to go so badly. Probably worse than he ever had in his entire life. </p>
<p>“Soon, baby,” Amy consoled, “our stop is right after this one.” </p>
<p>Mark whipped his head up, looking around the crowded bus. It was slowing down, and passengers milled towards the doors. Just one more stop? He could make it just one more st— but, then, he leaked, hot and long. He gasped, feeling his pants then a section of the towel below him soak through before he could regain control. It hadn’t been enough to soak all the way through to damage the seats, but now the reality was Mark hadn’t made it back dry, and he was humiliated. A desperate, pitiful sound escaped his throat.</p>
<p>“Mark?” Amy asked after a second, probably having guessed what happened. </p>
<p>He didn’t want to answer her, and said nothing. </p>
<p>“You’ve just gotta make it off the bus. We’re just a couple of minutes from our stop. Almost there.” </p>
<p><i>*Just* off the bus?’</i> Mark knew, realistically, that he couldn’t walk back to the hotel and make it all the way to their room in this state, but going through all this pain and humiliation just to piss himself on the sidewalk didn’t seem fair. </p>
<p>Several tense minutes passed with Mark squirming desperately into the now-wet towel. “This is our stop,” Amy said. She moved to get up, taking all their things and leaving him room to stand. The people near them, who had evidently become entirely too aware of his predicament, had already cleared an aisle. Mark felt his face burning and kept his head down. He had to stand.</p>
<p>As the bus was slowing down, he took a deep breath and clutched the towel to himself as he stood. The effect of the change in position was immediate and he felt himself leaking again, a steady dribble. All his willpower had to go to keeping himself moving towards the door as fast as he could, so he certainly had no mental energy left for a last desperate attempt to stop this steady leak, so he just prayed the towel would hold what he couldn’t. He stammered down the step down from his seats to the main bus floor, feeling the impact of each footstep directly to his bladder, increasing the flow for a moment each time.</p>
<p>The doors were open, so it was a clear shot, but by now the towel was partially dislodged and soaking through and there was piss streaming down his legs, hot and undoubtably clearly visible on his jeans. “Amy,” he whined. </p>
<p>“I know, I know. Just a few steps now and you can let go and you’ll feel so much better.” </p>
<p>Repeating the same torturous process, Mark stumbled down the steps out of the bus and onto the sidewalk, closely shadowed by Amy. The bus hadn’t even driven away but Mark could not hold any more — didn’t even want to — and let go completely, immediately soaking through the rest of the towel. He knew he was getting his hands filthy, but even as he screwed his eyes shut in disgust and humiliation, he couldn’t help but moan in relief. Amy was rubbing his back and mumbling comforting words, but he was barely aware of anything other than the mixing sensations of warm, acrid wetness on his legs and pure relief. The bus was pulling away and he was still wetting, and Mark became aware he was crying, tears dripping down his face. Finally, his stream tapered off, the last of what he’d been holding dripping into his already saturated pants and the towel he still clung to ineffectually. </p>
<p>“Oh, Mark,” Amy said, voice rich with sympathy. </p>
<p>“God— I’m— I’m so sorry,” Mark said. He had literally no idea how to proceed; he was nearly shaking with the exhaustion of trying so hard to hold and then the relief of letting go. </p>
<p>“Shh, none of that. This isn’t your fault, this was just a poorly scheduled day. We might as well throw out that towel here. I… think we have to walk to the hotel,” she told him, gently. </p>
<p>Mark winced as he walked to the garbage can. He was utterly soaked from the waist down; his pants clung and smelled and it was going to be awful walking back, but Amy was right. It wasn’t like he could get in an Uber like this. “You’re right. God. Fuck. Alright, let’s go. I’m… fuck, I just want a shower and to sleep for about twelve hours,” he said, trying to make it light but sounding more like he was pleading, as he used the back of his sleeve to wipe the tears off his face.</p>
<p>So they began the tense and uncomfortable trek back. Each time other pedestrians passed by, Mark found himself staring at the ground, filled with shame. Luckily no one tried to interact with them. But Mark could feel his legs chafing and found it hard to look at the bright side. </p>
<p>Of course, he didn’t get twelve hours of sleep, but he did get to shower and then cuddle up with Amy while she stroked his hair and told him she’d make sure he took enough bathroom breaks the next day.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>lmk wyt of this fic! if ur over 18 ur cordially invited 2 hmu on Twitter @ electroelevator! my hobbies include long walks on the beach and praying Mark never sees any of my fics!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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